


Late to Supper

by firecat



Category: Nero Wolfe - Rex Stout
Genre: Alien Flora & Fauna, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Orchids, Other, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Time Management, sentient alien symbiote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/pseuds/firecat
Summary: Nero Wolfe receives a new type of orchid, and finds it has some highly unusual features. Worst of all, it makes him late to supper. As usual, Archie has to find a solution.
Relationships: Archie Goodwin/Nero Wolfe, Nero Wolfe/Other(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020





	Late to Supper

**Author's Note:**

> No non-con is depicted, but it’s unclear in the story whether or how consent was established for the sexual situation portrayed. No other warnings apply.
> 
> Written for Froday 100th special, prompt: (35) sentient alien symbiote

Wolfe refused to come down from the plant rooms. That’s how I knew something sketchy was going on.

Someone who didn’t know the chronologically constipated man as well as I did might have thought nothing of it. “He loves orchids, and he just got his hands on a new, rare variety. He wants to spend more time with it. No puzzler here,” such an ignoramus might say. 

But I knew. Because for all that Wolfe loves orchids, he also loves precise schedules, and beer, and his custom built desk chair. It also pleases him well to cut me to ribbons night after night with his sharp tongue. Not coming down from the plant rooms promptly at six o’clock meant forgoing or delaying the pleasures of all four. 

When it wound around toward eight o’clock, he was also delaying the pleasures of his evening meal, and then I knew something was seriously amiss. Wolfe was at pains to maintain his imposingly round figure, and missing supper was simply never allowed.

There was nothing for it but to go up there myself. 

Theodore Horstmann, Wolfe’s plant man, accosted me as soon as I stepped into the warm room. “Archie!” he cried. “He asked to be left alone with the new orchid three hours ago, and now look at him!”

He led me through to the potting room. There was Wolfe, all 280 glorious pounds of him, sitting on his stool. Naked.

Or, not exactly naked, but wearing a tangle of writhing vines instead of clothes. 

His face held a look of sheer ecstasy. Solving a difficult case for a well-paying client, the first guzzle of beer on a hot New York summer day, biting into the most perfectly prepared duck a l’orange — _all at the same time_ — was what that face looked like. 

The reason for the expression was not far to seek. Clusters of ribbony green tentacles were invading his mouth and wrapped around his member, which was hard and leaking. Based on the muffled, high-pitched groans he was emitting, I had no doubt they were insinuating themselves into other sensitive areas as well. 

The pot that the monstrosity was growing out of was labeled “Octopus orchid, _Prosthechea cochleata, var. symbiota sapiens.”_

Sapiens, eh? 

“Where did this come from, Theodore?” I asked.

“I-I don’t know, Archie. As you know, we received the plant today. The provenance was supposed to have been sent along already, but you’re the mail handler. If you haven’t seen it, then it must not have arrived.” 

I wracked my brains, but I recalled no postal mail about a sexually depraved sentient orchid. 

At that moment, Wolfe gave a choked cry. The flower tentacles and vines gradually withdrew from his person, folding themselves impossibly back into the small pot. Wolfe had spattered come on his belly, and he kept licking at a viscous purple liquid seeping from the corner of his mouth. He looked around and saw only me. Theodore had beat a hasty retreat. I was glad for that. I knew Wolfe would be highly embarrassed for Theodore to witness his post-orgasmic person. I, however, was a familiar presence at such times.

I put the hint of command into my voice that was allowed to come out only when Wolfe and I were alone and not engaged in casework. “Well, that was different, Puppy. Come along, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re late for dinner.”

After Wolfe had imbibed and dined, he seemed more or less back to what passed as normal for him. He didn’t talk about his sexual adventures in the plant room. I began my recital of the daily records I kept.

“Item five. Orchids,” I said.

A hint of anxiety I’d never seen before appeared on Wolfe’s face. “Leave orchids out of today’s report, Archie,” he commanded. “Just record ‘as usual.’”

“But sir,” I protested. I knew if I obeyed Wolfe, he would regret the incomplete records later, and take it out on me.

“Archie,” he said, with that singsong tone that brooked no disagreement. 

There was nothing for it but to take those pages out of the binder along with several blank ones, surreptitiously drop them into the desk drawer that I have a special key for, and make a show of meticulously tearing up the blank pages. 

Wolfe did not display any other strange behavior that evening. He went to bed alone, but it was not one of our usual nights together, so that wasn’t unexpected either.

But in the morning I received a summons to his bedroom… _a full hour early._

Wolfe was wearing his usual yellow silk pajamas, but they looked uncharacteristically rumpled. The anxiety was on his face again. “Archie,” he said. “Take this down.” He recited a series of facts and tasks related to our latest case. Taken together, they were likely to lead to an airtight solution, and a sizeable increase in our bank account.

Then he went on to give me notes about several old, unsolved cases in our files. They would open up promising new leads.

“You’re very much on top of your game so early in the morning, sir,” I told him.

The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “It seemed that I dreamed about these cases, Archie. But I know it was... _his_ doing.”

“Of whom do you speak?”

“The sentient alien that’s passing as an orchid,” Wolfe told me. “I’m attuned to him telepathically now. He...Archie, he’s smarter than _me._ He’s smarter than us all.”

I took this news with a grain of salt. I would have also taken it with a couple of fingers of whiskey if I‘d had any handy. For all that Wolfe’s assertion sounded wacko, his certainty was compelling. 

“Archie, take me to the plant rooms now, before Theodore gets here. Give Felix some excuse about breakfast. _He_...needs me again. Now. For...nourishment. I can’t let the others know. Only you, my…my love.”

Wolfe only called me that when something profound was weighing on him. 

“Your providing him with nourishment would be the ‘symbiota’ part, would it, Puppy?” I ventured.

“I knew I could trust you to remember your Greek etymology, Archie. You display a most satisfactory blend of erudition, street smarts, and raw crudity. Except when you’re being an ass.” 

I ignored the gibe. “You forget my devastating schedule management skills. I’m sensing that a permanent schedule change might be in your future. We don’t want to disappoint our guest in the nourishment department. From now on, maintaining a feeding schedule for Mr Not-an-Orchid that doesn’t deprive you of your beer-and-supper time will be paramount.” 

“You are correct, Archie, as usual. Please see to it.”

“Can you communicate back to your tentacled symbiote? Or is the communication only one way?”

“I think I managed some basic communication yesterday. Otherwise I fear I might have been more injured by the...interaction. It might take some time to figure out how to communicate more complex ideas.”

“I have faith in you, Puppy. I require one thing: when you do establish mutual communication, introduce me. Mr Not-an-Orchid and I need to establish an understanding about who belongs to whom around here.”

“I will leave that in your masterful hands.”

“Very well then. Up we get, Puppy. Perhaps you should wear an old robe, instead of the lovely silk pajamas? I’m afraid that purple juice might stain them.”

“You think of everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> The non-sentient, non-symbiote Octopus orchid (Prosthechea_cochleata)  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prosthechea_cochleata  
> [D. Joshua Zampini](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2_giugno_2009_075.jpg) / [CC BY](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)  
> [](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2_giugno_2009_075.jpg)


End file.
